The centennial of the University of Virginia, 1819-1921 ::

Almighty and everlasting God who art the author and giver of life, and who
in all the ages past hast inspired the sons of men with a sense of their heritage
to become sons of God; we yield Thee hearty thanks for this our Alma
Mater, who under Thy divine guidance has been a maker and molder of men.

We give Thee thanks for our fathers who, in a former day, went forth
from this place to give their lives for home and country. We give Thee
thanks for these our brothers who, in this latter day, went forth in this same
exalted spirit that freedom might not perish from the earth. We commend
them, O God, to Thy fatherly care and protection, and pray that their
names emblazoned here may shine in our hearts as the stars forever, that the
cause for which they died may yet through us prevail.

O Thou strong Father of all nations, draw all Thy great family together
with an increasing sense of our common blood and destiny, that peace may
come on earth at last, and Thy sun may shed forth its light rejoicing on a
holy brotherhood of peoples.

We ask it all in the name of Him, who is the perfect Son of Man and
the eternal Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

REMARKS OF THE PRESIDING OFFICER, LIEUTENANT COLONEL CUTCHINS

(Introducing Captain Barksdale)

It is a beautiful and an inspiring thought that the first assembly of the
alumni of the University of Virginia, returning to celebrate the completion
of Alma Mater's one hundred years of service to State and Nation, should
be for the purpose of doing honor to, and perpetuating the memory of, those
former students of the University who gave their lives in order that the
ideals for which their Alma Mater always had stood might endure, and who,
by their death, exemplified the daily teachings and the loftiest traditions of
this University.

No graver charge can be lodged against any country than that it is ungrateful
to those who have fallen in its defense, or neglectful of the obligation
to perpetuate their memory. That the names of those immortal sons of
Virginia who willingly have given their lives in order that that civilization,
for which the University of Virginia has stood for a century, might be perpetuated
for unnumbered centuries yet to come, shall not go unrecorded and
unhonored, is due to the zeal, the loyalty and the patriotism of the classes
of 1918, 1919, 1920, and of the Seven Society. Those classes and that
society have earned not only the thanks of the great body of the alumni,
but they have earned as well the thanks of the countless thousands of Virginia
students who in the years that are to come will walk these paths, and,
walking here, will stop to read the names of that immortal company, and,
reading, will be inspired to go forth and so conduct themselves in the world
of men that the cause of civilization may be advanced, and that they too,
in time, may merit and win the thanks of Alma Mater.

One indeed treads upon sacred ground when one attempts to interpret
to the living the voices or the wishes of those who have passed beyond, but
I make bold to say that if that silent company who are to-day bivouacked
"on fame's eternal camping ground" could give expression to their sentiments,
they would bid me say that it is a source of satisfaction to them that
this Tablet Memorial is to be presented in their honor by one who himself
has inhaled the smoke of battle, one who himself has engaged in hand to
hand conflict with the foe, and one who has borne the seemingly endless
vigil of the long nights before the days of battle.

That my old comrade of the 29th Division, who will present this beautiful
tablet to-day, meets fully those requirements I personally can testify.
Nor need I give personal testimony, for the government of the United States
has recognized that fact officially, by awarding him the Distinguished Service
Cross for three separate acts of exceptional gallantry on three different
days of battle.

It is therefore with much pleasure that I present Captain Alfred Dickinson
Barksdale, who now will present this Tablet Memorial to the University
of Virginia.

ADDRESS OF CAPTAIN A. D. BARKSDALE, PRESENTING THE MEMORIAL TABLET

Thousands of miles away upon the friendly bosom of a sister republic
lie these heroic sons of Alma Mater. Filled with the loftiest ideals known to
mankind these modern Argonauts sailed three thousand miles to engage in
the mightiest conflict since the creation, and with their fellows they cast
their deciding weight into the balance on the side of humanity.

In that vast cataclysm which so recently enveloped the earth many
there were who made sacrifices, who gave of their time, of their means, of
their blood—but these have given their all; they have given their lives.
Only a few short years have passed since they in the fullness of their strong
young manhood were capable of standing here as we stand and feeling that
thrill which contact with this noble old Jeffersonian structure always inspires.
It seems as if it were but yesterday when they moved among us,
and made life brighter by their presence. But to-day their places are vacant
and we are gathered to honor their memory. From far and near we have
gathered to print their names in everlasting bronze upon the walls of this
Rotunda. But nothing that we do here or can ever do will add anything to
their glory. Their names have been ineradicably enrolled upon the great
American Roll of Honor. Those of us who knew them will always bear their
memory fresh in our hearts until we are called over yonder. But our days
are numbered and as we grow old and fulfill our allotted span we shall wither

Tablet Memorial Unveiled on Second Day of Centennial

as the grass. "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; age
shall not weary them nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun
and in the morning we will remember them." When we are gone generations
yet unborn will honor them. I know of no more priceless heritage to
one entering these portals than to be able to point to this tablet and say,
"I am descended from one of these."

In the early days just after America had aligned herself upon the side
of freedom and right, throughout the land there was a feeling of uncertainty
whether or not we Americans untried in war were capable of withstanding
the fierce onslaught of the Hun. The whole world stood anxiously watching
to see how Americans would stand the test. How they went through their
trial by battle, how they underwent their baptism of fire is now writ large
upon the glorious pages of the history of the world. And we are gathered
here to-day to place upon the walls of our University the names of her sons
who gave their all that their country's honor should be unsullied and to
show the world that Americans could still die for their country.

Since we cannot fathom the infinite we can never know why the grim
reaper as he stalked over the battlefields and army camps chose these.
Sometimes it seems as if it were all wrong; that only the best were taken;
that there must have been some great mistake somewhere up in the infinite.
But I think not. One night on the bank of the Meuse just after dusk, when
the guns were roaring and the shells were crashing everywhere, and the
whole world seemed in an uproar and confusion, I chanced to turn my eyes
upward and in the heavenly firmament above, countless myriads of stars
shone down upon the earth beneath; each one in its accustomed place unmoved,
unperturbed and imperturbable. Then over me surged the consciousness
that somewhere there was a Supreme Being who ruled over the
battlefield, who guided the destinies of mankind, and directed everything
according to His infinite plan, and although at times it seems that since the
war both nations and people have grown more selfish and subject to petty
jealousies, surely such sacrifices could not have been for naught. If we keep
faith with those who lie beneath the poppies, surely the world will be a better
place because of their sacrifices.

It was my privilege to serve with one of those whose names are written
on this tablet, Robert Young Conrad. In a few minutes his daughter, who
has never known the depth of her father's love and whose little body will
never be held in her father's strong arms, will assist in the unveiling. Together
we marched through the black night of October 7, 1918, to our position
in advance of the French lines from whence we were to attack at dawn.
The gloomy, drizzly night which disspirited many rather heightened than
dampened his spirits. "The very night for us," he said, "we can get ready
without being observed." Arrived at our position we lay down for a few

hours' rest on the wet hillside. Before the first rays of morning light he
called to me that it was time to place our troops in order of battle. As the
day slowly broke I could hear him calling to his men and placing them in
their respective positions. At dawn the roar of our barrage and the shrieks
of the shells overhead burst upon our ears. At zero hour he moved off in the
midst of his men and I could hear him calling to them with words of encouragement
and cheer. When the shells of the enemy's counter barrage
began to fall I could see him here, there and everywhere strengthening and
encouraging his men. Finally he disappeared over a hill and I never saw
him again. Hearing that one of his platoons had been halted by a murderous
machine gun fire, without a moment's hesitation he hastened to lead them
in the charge and fell mortally wounded. He was carried unconscious to
the rear and died in the little village of Glorieux, near Verdun. Aye, at
Glorieux, he met death gloriously.

It would take too long to recount the daring and unselfish exploits of
all of them, but whether they were called when soaring above the clouds as
Jim McConnell or while in the execution of some more prosaic task, in the
death of each one of them surely there is a glory incomparable. Free from
all that is mean and petty they went to meet their Creator inspired by the
noblest impulses known to mankind. They were taken at the high tide, at a
point where regard for self sunk into nothingness, and devotion to the cause
reigned supreme. "Don't bother with me, go ahead," murmured one of
them with his last conscious breath.

Although they loved life they did not fear death. Doubtless all of us
when filled with the romance of youth have read with bated breath of heroes
who met death with a smile and wondered what sort of divine clay they
were molded of. But we need wonder no longer, for here is the roll of Virginia's
sons, our brothers, in whom were inculcated the principles of right
and justice and duty, so that when the call came, they did not hesitate but
hastened cheerfully to lay down their lives, and if they had any regret it
was for those they loved and left behind.

Death is always a solemn thing and perforce sad, but for these, our
fallen comrades, we should repress our tears and rather let our souls swell
with pride in the glorious heritage they have bequeathed to their Alma
Mater. No one of these generous unselfish souls would ever wish sorrowful
tears shed for him. I believe that Alan Seeger, that valiant American who
also lies over there, expressed the wish of each of these when he said:

"Honor them not so much with tears and flowers,
But you with whom the sweet fulfilment lies,
Where in the anguish of atrocious hours
Turned their last thoughts and closed their dying eyes,

"Rather when music on bright gatherings lays
Its tender spell, and joy is uppermost,
Be mindful of the men they were, and raise
Your glasses to them in one silent toast."

Mr. Rector, we present to you for the University this tablet "in memory
of the sons of this University, who gave their lives for freedom in the World
War." May its presence here always be an inspiration to Virginia's sons
and may it stand forever as a proof that amongst the sons of this University
'tis counted a glorious thing to die for one's Country.

ADDRESS BY JOHN STEWART BRYAN, RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, ACCEPTING
THE TABLET

On this porch, a little more than half a century ago, were gathered
students in whose ears still sounded the drums and tramplings of the War
Between the States.

There, in graven bronze, are five hundred and fifty names of those who
marched forth under the flag of Virginia, and died in the defense of their
homes. Here are the memorials to their fourscore younger brothers who in
their day and generation heard the shrill bugle, and gladly followed the call
of duty.

The sad sagacity of age has taught us that nothing built with hands
can "hold out against the wreckful siege of battering days," and yet we
place this tablet on the walls of this century-old Rotunda in response to a
wish that lies deep in the heart of humanity. That desire to enshrine beloved
memory beyond the changes and chances of time is one that has come to all
men everywhere. Every heart has its inner shrine. To the university's
great altar we bring to-day this frail barrier against the engulfing tides of
oblivion. Size is not the measure of our memorial. The Pyramids of the
Nile have no such spiritual import as the most obscure cross in Flanders
field. And who can compute the power that gave this tablet its long roll of
the Knights of the University, the champions of pure liberty, the Galahads
of pure manhood?

When those boys were born, the possibility of international conflict
belonged to the limbo of

"Old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:"

and war seemed as far removed from the peaceful course of their lives as
volcanoes are from the calm Blue Ridge. As those young men grew up, they
saw nearly one half of our revenue being spent for works of peace, and now
95% is poured out for war, past, present and to come.

What was it in those boys that throbbed in response to the drumming
guns? Why was it then that those boys heard in these quiet shades the
blare of the war trumpet, when older and wiser heads still dreamt of peace?
What was it that called into instant action their aptitude for command and
their instinct for war? It was the glorious atavism in the blood of men
whose fathers and forefathers endured pain, darkness and cold at Valley
Forge, or stormed the heights of Chapultepec, or set new standards for military
genius and personal bravery at Chancellorsville and Gettysburg. The
blood that gave that type is coursing in the veins of Virginia. The inspiration
that controlled those lives is still potent.

Experience could have seen that those great spirits needed but the
revealing touch of death's finger to show that like their elder brothers of
Virginia blood they, too, when

"Stumbling on the brink of sudden opportunity,
Would choose the only noble, God-like, splendid way!"

Heredity alone will not explain the achievements of these sons of the
University. It was blood, yes, but it was training; it was heredity, but
heredity developed by environment; it was the soul of the South and the
traditions of the University of Virginia that made perfect those gentlemen
unafraid. It was not the Prussian drill master, but the Virginia school
master, that inspired those students and fortified their souls and liberated
their intellect. Those boys lived in the last unpoliced institution on earth.
No guardian was set over them here at the University, except the guardian
of conscience; they were tried and tested by the unwritten code of gentlemen;
they were electrified by the powerful spiritual currents that flow unimpeded
through the halls and arcades of this great school. No law bound them
except the law of honor, and by their lives, as by their death, they proved
again that an ideal is not only the most noble, but also the most useful
possession that an institution may give or a nation receive. They had
eaten the bread of Virginia in which lived transubstantiated the soul and
body of the whole nation. They found that to be a gentleman was at once
the crown and the sanction of life, and they showed by their willingness to
die that the certainty of sacrifice is the guerdon of greatness.

The glory that radiates from that tablet is the glory of the spirit of the
University of Virginia. The shining faces of those sacred dead have caught
the light of honor, and that flame will never perish from the earth while the
memory of their deeds endures.

Nor is the radiance theirs alone. Its light is upon us, too, for we who
stand here this afternoon are in a very real sense members of that mystical
body of Virginians who, living and dead, have fashioned the soul of this
Commonwealth. By ties of blood, by the unifying influence of race and

The Unveiling of the Tablet Memorial to World War Alumni

tradition, by the welding force of a common ideal, by the impress of the
same youthful enthusiasm awakened and amplified at the University, our
hearts are one with theirs. We grasp with an appreciation that far transcends
any power of reason what it was that made their lives luminous and
their deaths not in vain.

We dedicate this tablet, and with swelling throats and uplifted hearts
we turn again to the common tasks of daily life. That bronze memorial
stands immobile and silent; of itself it can do nothing; it is we alone, and our
lives alone, that can make it a vitalizing force. It is we, and we alone,
professors, alumni, students and citizens, who can surcharge that noble
scroll with an ever renewing energy. And this we can do by so living that
the spirit of those youths shall never be a stranger in these halls. For only
the souls of the living can make and keep the University a congenial home
for the souls of the dead.

This is no easy task. Our right to claim companionship with those
shining exemplars must be won in conflict with the hosts of darkness, even
as theirs was won. In the reeking trenches of France, in sweating camps,
and silent hospitals, across barbed-wire, and under the whirlwind of shrapnel
or the thunderclap of T. N. T., the sons of the University won their right to
be brothers in arms with the mighty men of all ages, who, from Thermopylæ
to Château-Thierry

"Had done their work and held their peace,
And had no fear to die!"

Many of us were not in uniform. Oh, never mind the reason, for each
heart knew its own bitterness when the angel with the flaming sword passed
by; but all of us can be brothers in spirit with those whose virtues we revere,
and whose names we commemorate to-day. Like them, we can face our
duty without flinching; like them we know what high adventure America
sought in entering the war, and for them, as for ourselves, we can repel the
base slander that America made her stupendous effort not to save her soul,
but to save her skin!

It is not the expenditure of Forty Billions; it is not the long rows of
75,640 silent dead that sleep in Belleau Woods and elsewhere in France,
that mark the full extent of the price we paid. Ah, no! America's contribution
is not in shot-torn troops, but in shattered ideals; our loss is not in men
and money, but in morale and faith. And the mere fact that such a calumny
on the ideals of a great nation could be uttered by an ambassador who has
continued unrebuked at his post is evidence enough that what America is
suffering from is not poverty of goods, but destitution of spirit.

And this tablet we dedicate to-day—if we ourselves do not keep faith
with those who died for the soul of America—will not be a memorial, but a

mockery and if we are not baptized with the baptism of those we commemorate,
we will stand not as brothers, but as blasphemers before

"That splendid fame this tablet watches o'er
Their wars behind them, God's great peace before!"

The souls of those men are here, radiant with imperishable glory, leading
the way with strong exulting wing where we, with slow tread, must follow.

How shall we name them all, and how shall we discriminate among
those equals in valor of purpose and fortitude of execution? We cannot
choose or pick among that chivalry—when all are calling to us to "Be true
to the nation, be true to Virginia, be true to the spirit of the University,"—
and by God's good grace, we will!

REMARKS OF THE PRESIDING OFFICER, COL. CUTCHINS, INTRODUCING THE
FRENCH AMBASSADOR

As long as memory lasts, and whenever men and women shall gather
together in any part of the world for the purpose of memorializing the names
or the deeds of those who participated in the World War, there is one name
that, above all others, will be in every mind—the name of France—France,
glorious and immortal!

On the beloved soil of our own Virginia there are scars, long since healed,
that mark the burial places of soldiers of France who stood shoulder to
shoulder with the soldiers of America when America was fighting for her
liberty and for her existence as a nation; on the sacred soil of France there are
scars, not yet healed, that mark the burying places of countless thousands
of the sons of America who laid down their lives more than a century later to
preserve not only the liberty and the national life of France, but to preserve
civilization as well. These scars indicate ties which neither time nor circumstances
can sever.

It is indeed a happy coincidence that to this memorable ceremony at
the University of Virginia, founded by Jefferson who, afterwards, was sent
as an ambassador of the United States to France, there has come the distinguished
Ambassador of France to the United States, to do honor to the
memory of those sons of Virginia who have fallen in the greatest cause for
which man ever has fought. He has graciously consented to express to us
the sentiments of his countrymen on this occasion.

I have the honor and the pleasure to present His Excellency, M. Jusserand,
the distinguished Ambassador of France to the United States.

[Note by the Editor.—As the eloquent address of Ambassador Jusserand
was entirely extemporaneous, it was, unfortunately, not reported. The
Ambassador very graciously consented to speak at the last minute in the
absence of M. Gabriel Hanotaux who had hoped to be present.]

	THE SECOND DAY The centennial of the University of Virginia, 1819-1921

University of Virginia Library

LIST OF DELEGATES

Delegates from Institutions in Foreign Countries

Delegates from Institutions in the United States

THE UNVEILING OF THE MEMORIAL TABLET TO WORLD WAR HEROES

Invocation offered at the Dedication of the Memorial Tablet by Reverend Beverley D. Tucker, Jr.